


20 Dollar Nosebleed

by Volrosso



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volrosso/pseuds/Volrosso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's neighbours are weird and every single one of them believes in magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wherein Joe Fails to Grasp the Point and Ruins Pete's Life (Possibly Forever)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [southdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/southdragon/gifts).



> Wherein Pete Wentz is a miserable, famous asshole forced to live in the weirdest neighbourhood imaginable by his concerned friends and believing in magic just a liiiittle bit gets him in a bit of trouble. Well, that is, if you could call it trouble.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The neighbours are weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I started writing this a looong while ago, but I'm only just getting back to it now! You might have to re-read the first chapter I mean nothing major has been changed, just some of the characters have been taken out and some have been added in!

 

 

 

**Day 1.**

Pete Wentz never truly admitted that he needed help, not as far as he himself was concerned.

A single drug induced plea after **the Incident** , maybe. Just once, when he started crying and telling Joe over and over, _okay, okay, you win, I'm done._ But he was quite sure in saying he had _never_ been this desperate for change in his life. That one time hardly even counted anyways, he'd been out of it.

And when someone tells you they need a change of scenery, they certainly don't mean _pack me up and move me into a fucking pink house in the middle of nowhere while I'm recovering from trying to off myself._

Rather, they mean _let's take a fucking vacation in the Irish countryside and eat potatoes for every meal and sing songs around the campfire while we hold hands and contemplate our life choices._

Joe had obviously misinterpreted this. Badly. And now Pete was standing on the browning lawn that belonged to him and his band mate, staring at the monstrosity his friend had forced upon the pair of them.

He felt like at any moment, the hidden cameras would come out of the bushes and someone would point at them and scream _gotcha!_ And then he and Joe and everyone in on it would all laugh and get coffee later. But alas, Pete was having no such luck. This was it. This was real life, and this was Hell.

The house. Was fucking _pink._ How the fuck was Pete supposed to deal with living in a pink house? It was so horrifying. Pete couldn't even look away from it, couldn't even _register_ that he was going to need to live here from now on. With Joe.

And why? He'd had a nice house in LA. That was fine. It was a nice house. He didn't need a fucking Barbie Dream House in Chicago because Joe decided it should be so.

Pete was not happy with Joe. He wasn't usually but now? No. Not at all. So instead of going to introduce himself to the neighbours like he knew he should, he decided not to do the right thing and stepped out of the miserable air outside, locking himself in the moving van.

He settled into the worn front seat as the orange-clad moving men carried all his things inside, sealing his fate once and for all.

It was warm in the van, at least, and it was dry. The car heater worked away as he propped his still-wet shoes up on the dashboard, sticking his hands in his hoodie pocket. Pete pulled his beanie over his eyes and curled up on the seat, incapable of doing anything but sit here and feel sorry for himself. Why, why, _why?_

This literally could not get any worse. Because not only was he moving into this terrible place, Joe was too.

Not permanently, of course. Joe had a life too. A life outside of Pete-fucking-Wentz with friends and family and sunshine and happiness. He'd have to return to it at some point. But for now, here he would stay. Just for a while, until Pete "straightened out" a bit. That really would take a while, and that was a while too long to be sharing a house with fucking Joe Trohman. He still had to make sure Pete wasn't by himself all the time, because apparently he couldn't be left on his own anymore, not after **the Incident.**

Nothing had been the same after **the Incident** , and Pete hated it. He almost wished **the Incident** hadn't happened at all. Or maybe that **the Incident** had gone through and he wouldn't have to deal with any of this. Because it was total bullshit, all of it was bullshit.

Pete peeked out from under the bottom of his hat and watched beads of rainwater race each other down the windshield before the wipers got to them, smearing them both into oblivion and making Pete frown. He considered acting like a grown up and going to help everyone with his stuff, but then again, fuck that. There were better things to be doing. Like sulking in the warm and watching the other residents of this fucked up street. Really, it was a nice street. A lot of the people who lived here were probably rich.

Rich people were usually weird and into cults and stuff. Pete knew a lot of rich people, he could tell you. 

The only neighbours out were the neighbours to the left, all two of them. Stupid, really, it was cold and wet and miserable outside. But they were still there, and there was something that could be said about such nosiness.

They were huddled together out on the side lawn in big yellow rain slickers. The taller of the two had ducks on his rain boots, and a rain hat that nearly fell over his eyes.

The shorter had pink boots with cherries and blossoms on them and god, it was the most ridiculous getup ever. They sort of looked like misplaced pastel fishermen in the most comical possible way.

Pete flipped them off, but they appeared just to start laughing, making him feel indignant and a bit angrier, cranking whatever shitty pop tune was murmuring on the radio to blasting and ignoring everything else in the world because nothing was worth his attention.

He almost dozed off. Almost. It was warm in there, warm and dry, and that was fantastic. He'd be sleeping on the couch tonight, until he was properly installed in this stupid new house, and for some reason the moving van seemed a one-up from that. Before Pete could properly doze off in the van, however, Joe unlocked the door and practically pulled him out before locking it again.

"Go meet the neighbours, Pete," Joe muttered as Pete repressed an oncoming diva tantrum, because oh god, he felt his temper rising. Joe squeezed his shoulder and continued moving Pete's stuff, and okay, maybe Pete felt a _little_ bad because Joe's already-thin sweater was soaked through and he was shivering. But seriously, fuck him. This was all his doing, lest we forget.

To humor Joe though, Pete went over to the geeky boys in rain boots standing in the grass of the left house. The shorter one was wearing silly-looking sunglasses even though the sun was buried so far in the clouds it probably would never come back out. The other had dorky glasses and the girliest legs Pete had ever seen on a boy. He stood with his feet turned in, he was probably a super awkward person.

He'd be much cuter without the hat.

"Decided you liked us after all?" The shorter wanted to know, and Pete could tell he was weird just by looking at him. He had his hood down, even if the rain had not let up in the slightest, and his short, white hair was totally soaked, turning a nice shade of light grey. Pete decided not to answer that, and the man seemed not to care. "Anyways, we live next door, so. My name is Gerard, this is my little brother Mikey," and the other gave an awkward little wave and a nearly inaudible 'hi'. If he was the little brother, Pete was a toad.

"We already met Joe," Gerard continued, ignoring Pete's little huff of annoyance. He wasn't enjoying being talked to at the moment. "He's pretty nice. Says he won't be staying though."

"He's not," Pete muttered, and Gerard shrugged as if that didn't matter. They probably expected him to introduce himself, but he was too tired to actually care. He half-hearted a smile and mumbled something about going to help Joe with boxes.

Pete did not want to talk to weirdos with white hair and their cute 'little' brothers, he wanted to get smashed and sleep until next week and wake up in his own bed in his own house that was not the pink monstrosity he was stuck with at the moment. Plus, rainy weather made him want to sleep for years and never wake up.

Life sucked.

 

 

 

 

**Day 2.**

Pete's meds were on the kitchen counter when he stumbled in. The perfect dosage, with a little happy face on a lined paper note from Joe.

Fucking Joe.

The medicine cabinets were completely bare, Pete had already checked while he searched in vain for his missing medication. They, and the bathroom as a whole, were devoid of everything and anything that could be hazardous to someone's health in excess, and that made Pete so annoyed it took a lot of willpower not to think about driving the edge of the sunny white cabinet through his skull.

He was still far too tired for this bullshit, and rubbing the nightmare of being torn limb from limb by a crowd of screaming girls with sharp teeth out of his eyes.

It was cold in the house, and he didn't remember where he put his sweater last night, or where his shirt had gone. They weren't in the living room as far as he knew and he was stubbornly avoiding any rooms in the house that were not the kitchen or the living room. Why? Pete did not know. But now he was cold and stiff and half-naked, and his head was throbbing.

Not like Pete hadn't woken up like this before. He was famous, it happened pretty often, especially on tours. It was just usually with a girl he didn't know beside him and a wicked headache in a hotel room with white sheets. But no. There was no girl here, and he'd woken up cramped on Joe's old couch with no pants on, no shirt on, and not enough blanket to keep him warm. He was also mightily disappointed by the fact that he remembered everything.

Yes indeed, Pete remembered every mundane detail of every insignificant clockwork action he had gone through the rest of the dismal day and last night. Most of it had included arguing with Joe over trivial things that he didn't even care about just because he could. He did that a lot anyways. Moving or not, Pete wouldn't pass up any excuse to tear into his good-for-nothing band mates.

He then practiced bass for about an hour before he got moody and irritated with the situation and broke Joe's lamp, sending them both into yet another screaming match and a bruised jaw on Pete's part. Joe locked himself in his room and blasted loud, angry music until hunger called him back down.

Dinner consisted of the outstanding chocolate-chip cookies Mikey and Gerard had baked for them, even if Pete was skeptical of eating anything a weirdo and his adorable 'little' brother had prepared. The cookies had tasted like little chunks of heaven, which Pete appreciated quite a lot. And okay, maybe if the neighbours were weird, he'd still tolerate them somewhat if they could bake like this.

But he didn't care about cookies now, or anything, for that matter. Pete cared more about the fact that his head was pounding like a motherfucker and Joe didn't trust him with a bottle of Advil.

This left him with two options. One, he could search the entire fucking house to find the bottle that Joe might not even have. Secondly, he could go next door and ask for some. And wow, his head really hurt, so he was seriously considering it this time. It was a big deal, social interaction before it was even dark out. Pants might be a good option before that happened though. Pete didn't need the neighbours seeing him in his boxers. Not yet, at least.

There were zero options for clothing at the moment, so he had to go scope out where he'd left everything.

His plain black t-shirt from yesterday was lying behind the couch, and it didn't smell too bad at all, so that was a bonus, even if everything else sucked hugely. His jeans were lying on the bathroom floor in a crumpled heap of black, and Pete didn't even remember putting them there, but they were there anyways, so he shimmied into them before grabbing his sunglasses and braving the outside world.

This would be a pain if Pete had a hangover, which he didn't. He could thank Joe for that at least, because he most certainly would if Joe would let him consume alcohol. The day was bright and sunny, and still had him squinting at the sun as he slipped the glasses over his eyes, swearing under his breath. A few steps off the front porch confirmed that Pete had neglected putting shoes on, but who cared. This headache was too bad to let anything stand in its way, and shoes were trivial anyways.

Pete trudged across the still-wet grass to the neighbouring house. Gerard and Mikey's place was a normal colour, at least, which seemed odd because they were odder. Just a normal grey house with a green lawn and an impressive garden. The only noteworthy thing about it was the weird metal antenna sticking up among the flowers but Pete figured you were supposed to ignore it.

He stood on the porch, briefly wondering what time it was and if it was too early to be visiting anyone, but the pounding of his brain would not be ignored and he was knocking on the door before he realized he was doing it.

Mikey was on the scene in two seconds flat, swinging the door open. He himself was pantsless, with a shirt with some sort of band on it. He'd straightened his hair too, brown eyes wide with amusement as he sized Pete up, watching as the other struggled to keep his eyes on his face. Mikey had a cup of coffee in his hand and was stirring it with a lollypop. Pete was momentarily confused, even more so when the sleepy-looking Way brother opened his mouth.

"Do you want some sugar?"

"Um." Pete was a bit stunned, and he sure as hell wasn't sure how the fuck to deal with this situation. Mikey stuck the lollypop in his mouth, raising an eyebrow, but otherwise his face was totally blank. Seriously. What the _fuck_. Pete swallowed hard, meaning to respond, but Mikey beat him to it.

"Sugar. Do you want some?" Sip of his coffee. Unchanged expression. Gerard walked by in the background and he was wearing pink. A frilly apron. What the hell. "Because people come by all the time now and I'm used to it."

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn't sure how to respond to that at all. Mikey took the lollypop out of his mouth. "Do you? Gerard bought some yesterday to make cookies, and I don't need any more cookies in this house."

"...You mean _sugar_ sugar." The thought hadn't even occurred to Pete. He went totally red in the face and Mikey smirked. Pete knew he had worded the question just so, to watch Pete squirm. How evil of him.

"Yes I mean sugar sugar, not sex. Buy me dinner first. Now is sugar sugar what you're here for or not?"

It took Pete a moment before he could actually respond, scrubbing a hand over his forehead. Gerard had come to the door, and yes that was a bright pink ribbon in his hair. He was stuffing a delicious-looking purple-iced cupcake in his mouth, waving at Pete with his free hand like they'd been friends for life. It smelled divine and looked fantastic and made Pete's mouth water, but he was on a mission and would not be distracted.

"No," Pete said. "I uh... Aspirin...?"

Gerard licked purple icing off his fingers, wiping the excess on the front of his bright pink apron- why was he even wearing that stupid thing. "You don't have aspirin at your house?"

And Pete had to bite back at least three sarcastic or cynical responses to be delivered in deadpan. _No, I have aspirin, it amuses me to show up on your porch with no shoes on. No, Joe is not going to leave the suicide risk with a bottle of pills. No, hobos carried it off in the middle of the night._ These people obviously did not recognize who he was, which seemed pretty impossible, _everyone_ knew who he was. Instead of snarking so hard the Ways never spoke to him again, Pete just said "No, it's in a box somewhere."

Mikey just shrugged and walked back inside the house, hopefully to get some aspirin while Gerard stood in the doorway and stared at him, sucking on his thumb to make sure he'd removed every last speck of icing from his skin.

"So you didn't come here for sugar?"

"No I didn't come here for fucking sugar," Pete snapped back, and Gerard made a face at his tone. He waved Pete off and wandered back into the house, mumbling something about everyone coming to the house for sugar. Mikey reappeared with a single tablet, and Pete snatched it off of him, mumbling something vaguely resembling a thank you as he hurried off the porch.

When he looked back Mikey was standing pantsless on the porch reading the newspaper intently and dear _god_ , what a bunch of weirdos Joe had surrounded them with. And before he even got inside, he was subject to seeing a short guy attempting to walk all like, forty of his dogs at the same time, what the fuck was wrong with this neighbourhood.

Pete got home, enjoyed his aspirin, and went to sleep until Joe got home when it got dark.

He was going to hate this, and he was going to hate this bad.

 

 

 

 

**Day 4.**

Pete did not like the neighbours, and he hadn't even met them yet.

He'd seen them, sure, almost all of them. Or so he guessed, he didn't have an estimate about how many people lived on this street, so he couldn't now for sure, but he'd seen a fair amount of them. And he'd even met two of them. And the two of them that he had met were total nut jobs.

Seriously, on **Day 2** it was a much nicer day than **Day 1**. It wasn't raining or anything, which was kind of nice if you liked the sun. It was quite warm with the sun out.

The Ways were drawn out to their front yard by the pleasant weather, puttering around far too early in the morning. Morning people were as rare as they were obnoxious.

Gerard was out mowing their lawn in some unholy black and white French Maid uniform, headband and all, standing out and painfully obvious. His bright purple rain boots didn't match the getup at all, and Pete felt like cringing.

Mikey (in normal Mikey attire) worked on their pretty garden full of growing flowers. Seriously, what was with that? How did they find the time to do nothing all day? The garden was actually pretty spectacular, it would probably take a lot of upkeep...

Gerard gave Pete a smile and a wave when he saw him standing at the foot of his driveway, holding the newspaper and gawking at them both. Pete turned away sheepishly as Mikey laughed, barricading himself back in the house before he remembered how much he missed the outside world and actual human interaction.

Pete had also deducted from his extended period inside the house that the guys on the other side of them- two of them lived there, that he'd seen thus far- were actually clinically insane in a way Gerard or Mikey could never hope to be. The guy with fifty dogs lived in there- okay, maybe not fifty dogs. More like five or six. That was still a lot. And the guy was diligent and dedicated to his dogs, okay? Like, really really dedicated. In a sort of unhealthy way.

He was a short little guy- Pete was sort of a short little guy too but this guy was ridiculous. Pete could see him running around with his dogs and his roommate/friend/gay lover/husband at all hours of the night. He walked the dogs four times a day, all of them, and sometimes his roommate/friend/gay lover/husband or whatever he was would help him.

The roommate/friend/gay lover/husband had the most impressive head of hair Pete had ever seen outside of Joe, and he knew that his name was Ray just because he had introduced himself to Joe loudly when Pete was scouring the kitchen for food that didn't exist because Joe refused to go shopping. He was not nearly as feminine looking as the dog guy. He looked more normal, for sure, and his smile was ever-present.

He'd probably be nice if he wasn't always wearing a blue cape with gold stars on it, because what the everloving fuck was the deal with that thing, honestly. Pete had felt like he could get along with Ray until he saw it. It was the first thing Pete had noticed, peeking out of the kitchen to see who was at the door, the cape around Ray's shoulders. That and the gnarled stick tucked into one of his belt loops, the way he kept brushing his hand over it to make sure it was still there. He set off fireworks in the backyard too, on **Night 3** , which Pete had not appreciated, though Joe had told him they were spectacular.

Everyone else was enigmatic and strange. Two guys lived across the street in a big house that looked nicer than pretty much any of the other ones on the street. They weren't home all that much really, but Pete came to understand that they were the type of people who stop you mid conversation to point out a dog going by. Gerard's wording exactly. Just two good friends who were awkward and nice. Pete had never spoken to them.

There were others, others Pete didn't care much for, but on **Day 4** , Mikey Way in all his awkward glory was standing on the porch knocking, and Joe wasn't home. So Pete was roped into social interaction yet again. Shit. He opened the door and Mikey waved lazily. "Joe said I should take you to meet the neighbours today," he said, and Pete made a face because he should've suspected that Joe and Mikey were in cahoots, he should have _known._

Damn Joe, damn their cute, awkward neighbours.

He didn't know or hate Mikey well enough to make a scene and slam the door in his face and spend the rest of the day sleeping, as much as he wanted to, so he just made a non-committal noise and stepped out onto the porch and into the full glare of the blinding morning sun. He felt like he should say something, especially when Mikey handed him a cup of coffee. The mug declared in loud, blocky letters: "I WANT TO BELIEVE". Pete stared blankly at it before looking back at Mikey, who shrugged.

"You kind of look like you need it, dude," he said simply, stepping off the porch. Pete nodded his thanks and followed wordlessly behind Mikey, who was probably talking about the neighbours they were going to meet as he crossed over their lawn-

aaaand walked right in without actually knocking or anything, calling "RAAAAY." Pete was assaulted by at least six dogs, a few of which were small enough to be stuffed animals, but terrifying all the same. He nearly dropped his coffee on one, a large boxer who was pretty impressive and just a little bit intimidating.

He nearly dropped it again when the little dude came barreling around the corner and threw his arms around Mikey's neck going "Mmmmikeeeeyyyy!" and Mikey was alarmed and delighted in equal parts. He was totally taller than Dog Guy. It was funny. 

The guy with the cape peeked around the corner curiously and Pete stared at him. That was Ray. He knew that much. He'd never been this close to Ray before, Ray was also annoyingly tall. 

"Um. Yeah, these are my friends on the street, Frank and Ray? Or some of them. I like everyone on the street." Mikey managed to pry Frank off of him, and Frank held out his hand to shake Pete's and nearly broke Pete's hand with his grip when he did. He was rather enthusiastic. Pete could appreciate that if it didn’t hurt so much. "Frank and Ray, this is Pete."

Pete mumbled a hello, but he was more concerned by the fact that every single wall he could see in this house was painted black. The doorways were way too wide, double doors with brass knockers adorning them into every room and yeah this was sort of really weird. The staircase he could see was spiral, which made no sense. He wasn't sure if they were going for some sort of castle look but they were kind of accomplishing it.

"He moved in just next door?" Ray asked from the doorway to wherever, stepping in properly. Pete was immediately distracted by his cape. "With the other curly-haired guy?"

"Joe," Pete said quietly, nudging the dog that had taken a seat on his foot gently. Frank picked the dog up immediately, smiling brilliantly. "I uh... Your house is pretty..."

"Odd," Mikey agreed.

"We get that a lot," Frank said, and now Pete was really wondering what the situation was here. "...We get that from everyone, actually."

"He's got that look on his face," Ray pointed out, and Pete was confused.

"The friends, roommates, or gay lovers look?" Mikey examined Pete's face, then smirked. "Yup, that's the look. Frank is Ray's assistant. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Assistant or lab rat," Frank muttered, and Ray made an annoyed sound.

Mikey ignored their banter, looking back to Pete. "Ray's a wizard. If you ever need anything, you should ask him. He's good at what he does."

He was a wizard at what? What was he good at? Pete smiled and nodded and waited out all the small talk between Ray and Mikey as Frank ushered the multiple dogs outside. It was awkward, and Pete wanted to go home, but apparently Mikey didn't have authorization to allow that. He didn't take Pete to meet anyone else when they left Frank and Ray's house, but he did walk him around the block, pointing out every house and rattling off who lived there and some random facts about them. Pete was having a hard time keeping up with the names and the addresses. 

**Spencer** and **Brendon** lived _there_ , he pointed to the place where the angry people lived. **Spencer** just moved in after a bad breakup because he had nowhere else to go, the two of them were friends with **Dallon** who lived down the street a ways. But **Dallon** was away a lot so they didn’t see much of him, and **Brendon** probably liked either him or **Spencer** , but Mikey couldn't actually tell which one. **Brendon** was also a pretty nice guy.

Two boys lived in that huge place there on the corner, and they were constantly camped out in the tree house in the front yard. Apparently they also saved the world on occasion. **Tyler** was a bit hard to talk to because he didn't make sense sometimes, but he and **Josh** were sweet and funny, even if they were just a bit juvenile.

Pete zoned out after a bit as Mikey kept talking, taking in a few names he probably wouldn't remember. Though when asked about it later he could tell you that **Travie** was a kind of a loner, but a nice enough guy, and that **Gabe** would basically have sex with anyone living and breathing, and that his roommate was quiet and Mikey had never actually spoken to him, which was unusual because Mikey spoke to everyone. The guy hardly ever came out of his house during daylight hours, Mikey said. But after hours oh yeah, sure.

It was a lot to take in, Pete just hoped not everyone was as crazy as the people he'd met thus far. He wasn't sure he could handle an entire street of Gerards and Rays and Franks. A street full of Mikeys would be fine, however, Pete could handle a street full of cute glasses boys.

Just not today, so he excused himself and went home and slept for the rest of the day. That night he went out for a walk with his earphones jammed in his ears and his music turned up to blasting. Nothing interesting happened, except when he thought he saw something move on top of the Weird Party House -where **Gabe** supposedly lived- a dark shape move smoothly over the roof. But who the fuck knew, medication worked in funny ways sometimes and Pete didn't really care. The walk that would usually have been peaceful just made him mad and sad and sent him walking straight back home to the empty house that he was really starting to loathe.

 

 

 

**Day 5.**

"Gerard made pancakes, you're coming over," Mikey said, pulling a barefoot, half-naked, pajama-clad Pete out of the house before he even had time to respond.

Pete wondered briefly how Mikey could be this functional before noon, then he remembered that some people were fine and could function on their own without meds or babysitters, and somehow that thought made him all the more bitter. Why the fuck was he eating pancakes now. Pancakes were for happy people and happy people only.

Mikey dragged him across their lawn and into their house- which did admittedly smell fantastic and maybe even brightened Pete's mood the tiniest bit. Or at least until Gerard walked in, licking maple syrup off his fingers. He had that pink apron on again over the French Maid uniform, and he waved with his free hand, smiling happily. Apparently Joe was there too, sitting at the kitchen table and staring down at the newspaper. He sort of looked like he lived there. Maybe he'd move in and Pete wouldn't have to worry anymore. He said hello to Joe, who grunted back, apparently engrossed in what he was reading. 

"Figured you'd want to eat something other than instant ramen and cold pizza," Gerard said curtly, and Pete figured he shouldn't be here if he was in a bad mood, Joe knew how he got when he was in a bad mood, it was never pretty. "Where's your shirt?"

Mikey went and sat down, but Pete continued standing awkwardly in the doorway. He didn't like this. This whole situation made him uncomfortable. "I didn't have any time to actually grab one between the time I opened the door and the time I was spirited away by the neighbours," he snapped, and Joe rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't have come otherwise," Mikey said simply, jabbing repeatedly at his pancakes with his fork like he had to make sure they were dead and inanimate before consuming them. "You're not obligated to stay."

"No uh... Thanks." He went and sat down, half paying attention to the plate of pancakes Gerard set before him. Maybe social interaction would be good? He had no idea what to talk about, which actually seemed okay because Gerard did.

"I was um... Reading something yesterday. You guys are in a band?" And Pete laughed a little humorlessly at that because they _were_ in a band. A _famous_ band. Everyone knew who they were.

"We're taking a break for unforeseen circumstances," Joe said, and Pete fell silent, leaving Gerard and Mikey to mull that over and come to their own conclusion. Mikey was on his phone though, probably Googling the unforeseen circumstances. "It'll be over soon, thank god. Andy gets antsy if he's left alone too long. Doesn't like staying still."

That was true. Pete felt like he should add something snarky to that, but the way Mikey was looking at him now, like he was totally horrified somebody could even think about doing that to themselves... Something about that was making him nervous, like he was being judged and he didn't want that and now he couldn't breathe. Gerard was reading over Mikey's shoulder, his eyes wide.

"Stop," Pete said, cold and furious, and Joe was giving him a look across the table and that was making him angrier because Joe probably thought he was acting like a diva. He wasn't. He was upset, and it was getting worse. "Stop looking at me like that. You have no right to be looking at me like that."

Gerard looked like he was going to apologize, but Mikey's feathers were all ruffled now, there was no going back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Doesn't mean anything," Joe assured him, and assaulted Pete's shin under the table with a foot when it looked like he was going to say something. But Pete wasn't done yet, and the stare down was intense.

Pete managed to bite back saying _you look like the sort of person who can't function in the morning without his meds too_ , because an idiot could recognize the way Mikey was tugging at his sleeves every once in a while, smile wavering. But he did excuse himself, leaving before he got angry enough to comment on Mikey's ridiculous brother.

 

 

 

**Day 6.**

Joe wasn't diligent enough in keeping alcohol out of the house, because last night when he couldn't sleep, Pete grabbed his coat, cranked up his music and walked to the store, buying as much alcohol as he could carry and stashing it under the couch.

Pete was smashed once again by two in the afternoon the next day, and the neighbours had gone from tolerable to unbearably irritating in a matter of hours. It was pouring outside, and still. The house across the street was loud and obnoxious as ever. Mikey had probably been wrong about Brendon, because he was really digging into the guy standing on the driveway. They'd been out there for twenty minutes screaming, both of them were totally soaked and they were giving Pete a headache.

He was hurting all over because the couch sucked and Joe had socked him in the arm for his behavior yesterday, but he didn't care. He was back in that place and just wanted to sleep, partially because he couldn't and partially because you didn't have to exist when you were asleep. Unless you had nightmares, those were always worse than being awake. But he was most definitely awake, thanks to the stupid neighbours fighting out on their driveways. At some point, Pete decided to put a stop to it.

This was a really stupid idea, he usually knew better than to attempt human contact in this state, but he just felt miserable and out of control anyways, a fight would help him feel... Something, anything. Who knew? Pete needed something.

A voice at the back of his head was saying that this was quite possibly the worst idea ever fathomed, to call Joe and talk this out with him because he'd be worried if he knew what was happening. But another part of Pete's head was telling him that smashing his fist into another person's face would make him feel better. It always kind of had, people forcing him back into control. Someone else dealing with him so he didn't have to.

He walked down to the end of the driveway, folding his arms over his chest and watching as Mikey ran across the street, because Brendon was shoving the guy back and it was going to go downhill really fast. He got between the two of them, pushing them gently apart as the guy bared his teeth at Brendon, who just started screaming all over again, pushing against Mikey's grip, _you've made enough of a scene Ryan, piss the fuck off!_

Mikey was trying to keep the situation under control, and he looked like he'd already had to deal with this too many times already. Brendon swung right past Mikey though, and nailed the guy just under his eye, and now everyone was yelling and it was not doing anything for Pete's mood at all. If anything, all this was making him feel worse. He crossed the driveway to stand by Gerard on the Way's lawn.

"What's up with them?" He asked, and Gerard frowned.

"You know those ex-boyfriends who never leave you alone?"

"Oh." The two of them stood in silence as Spencer pulled Brendon, kicking and screaming, back into the house. Mikey escorted the other guy down the driveway, nearly getting the glasses knocked off his face in the process.

The next day, Pete punched Brendon. Mostly just because he could. Mostly because it was almost enjoyable when Brendon punched him back


	2. Wherein Bad Things Become Weirder, Tension Ensues, and Frank is Unwittingly Turned Into a Daschaund

**W.B**

_William Beckett was not overly fond of theatrics when he was hungry._

_Well, he wasn't especially fond of theatrics anyways, but especially not when his tolerance was low and he was starved half to second death._

_Unfortunately, it was theatrics that he was getting. He hadn't asked for this. He was sure he'd_ never _asked for it, and he was very sure that he never would, but it happened anyways. He just wanted to sit at home and work on his new project and ignore the incessant hunger that was gnawing away on his insides. That was all._

_And this project was important. He had to get it done, and soon. Victoria had been getting really impatient lately, William had to deliver or risk another visit to his house. Those always ended in tears on his part._

_Even worse than the yelling, she might threaten to take her business elsewhere, like to that cheery clown of a man with his lipstick and his bright yellow hat. The thought of him alone made William's blood boil, he couldn't risk losing another customer to that joke._

_Especially not Victoria. He needed to stay on her good side somehow- she was the only thing keeping him safe. He needed something to pacify her with._

_William was sitting on the couch in the living room working by dim lamplight. He only did that when he had the house to himself, because there was nobody to complain about it. It was a lot less lonely sitting out in the living room by himself than it was being locked up in his room alone._

_William had been at it so long already that his fingers were aching and numb and his eyes were tired. Not to mention the hunger. Always the hunger. It never really went away, and William tended to work a whole lot better when he was hungry. Motivation, maybe, he always told himself he'd eat after he'd finished something. He often didn't. It was just too much work to find food in this neighbourhood, with those damn vigilantes or whatever they wanted to call themselves- Hunters, yes. Hunters._

_William hated them more than he hated Victoria._

_His glasses were beginning to irritate him, so were the locks of hair that he had to keep blowing out of his face because his hands were otherwise preoccupied. He'd been meaning to get it cut for months now, but he didn't leave the house and there was nobody to remind him to do so. What was a boy to do?_

_So, as it stood, William was losing patience. So he had none left for the theatrics._

_He probably would have had a heart attack when the front door flew open. If his heart were still beating, that is._

_Alternatively, he dropped his screwdriver after jabbing it viciously into his thumb by accident and swore loudly before sticking it in his mouth and swiveling his head around._

_The figure in the doorway was a sort of menacing, looming silhouette against the storm outside -of course he'd choose a fucking stormy night to come back- the rain was lashing down behind him as he stepped in and shut the door after he was sure William had had enough time to behold him in his six-foot-infinity glory._

_The_ drama.

_He had on a big black raincoat and boots, approximately seven different coloured scarves, and a hood. William just shook his head angrily, managing to shake more of his hair into his face. Instead of acknowledging the other, he decided to fix his hair by pulling it back, and then he decided that he'd get back to work._

_Of course his housemate wouldn't have that. The lights flickered._

_"I have to ask- was that all entirely necessary," William sighed, not looking at the other man, who was just starting to remove his forty-two layers of everything. That was the price he had to pay for his theatrics. What was he thinking, coming home in the heavy rain? Not that William was overly worried about him or anything... William huffed and picked up his screwdriver once the nick on his thumb had healed over completely, delving back into his work. "You look ridiculous."_

_"And you look hot." Tryhard Housemate hung up his coat, but was still too busy removing clothing to go anywhere. William rolled his eyes, adjusting his glasses quickly before going back to attending to the screws in his latest project's skull. He was already worrying about a name, though he was nowhere near close to that point. Maybe he'd ask Victoria for her input for once. It was her robot, after all. Or, it would be._

_A name. Put that down on the list. Put soundproofing his workspace on the list too, now that_ he _was back. William would have to hurry and finish this quick. You know, before the amazing amount of distractions rolled in, as they no doubt would. Parties and get-togethers and... well,_ fornication _with various other people on the street in the other room._

_The possibilities were as endless as they were irritating. William would have to re-acquaint himself with having someone else around._

_"You say that to everyone Gabriel," William said, and had to remind himself not to sound too too bitter about it. It came off as a joke, which he could live with._

_Best not give anything away, right? William made a future note not to sound so snarky; he'd come to expect this of his ridiculous housemate._

_Gabe had been away a long time with his friends in that band William could never remember the name of for the death of him. He couldn't help feel jealous when Gabe up and left for months on end, even if it was the only time William got any work done._

_Though, he couldn't blame Gabe for wandering off to greener pastures, William wasn't what one would call the life of the party. He wasn't even the death of the party, he was the after-life of the party that nobody even cared about, locked away in his room and working too hard for people who hardly appreciated it. He was anxious and uncool and he had a habit of stuttering and Gabe was- well. Gabe was Gabe. Gabe was pretty much perfect._

_And William had programmed Gabe this way. He couldn't recall why sometimes, but he had._

_Gabe just grinned and went over, flopping down right behind William and propping his cold chin over William's shoulder, examining the android skull in his hands. It was nice, William was proud of it. The girl would be very, very pretty, and Victoria would be very, very happy. "Just the people I sleep with," he said. A shrug was implied._

_William refused to look at him, he just frowned in concentration at the robot in his hands and tried his best to pay the one on his shoulder no mind. "You haven't slept with me. Don't talk like that."_

_"I don't do older men, not really." He was joking. He was totally joking. William bit back a comment about Gabe's actual age. Instead he gave an unattractive snort and raised an unamused brow. "Really. I know you have weird dreams about me, don't pretend you don't."_

_"I have no interest in two-year-olds."_

_Gabe just snickered. "Cold."_

_"I am." William shrugged him off and made a face. His concentration was broken- he'd lost the vision. Great. The involuntary heavy sigh he gave off_ _informed Gabe of what he'd done, if Gabe cared at all he didn't let on. The agonized sigh meant only_ now I can hit on William.

_William was having none of that. Standing, he set the head down on the coffee table, pulling the blanket back over the parts and tools that Gabe wasn't allowed to touch._

_"I'm going to bed," he announced._

_"Only if you take me with you-" Gabe went in for the kiss. William panicked and his hand was smacking into the side of the robot's face before he even really knew what was happening. Gabe was laughing though, he backed out of William's space and held his hands up._

_"Fine, fine. Go sleep. You're so boring, you know that?"_

_William didn't answer. He just reflected on the conversation on his way to his room, and all the possible ways it could have been interpreted. Was he too blunt? Was he too obvious?_

_He was never sure he'd know what to do if Gabe found out about any of this. He'd laugh about it, make some crude joke about Frankenstein getting freaky with his monster that William would probably turn him off for._

_He'd be kind of right though, no creator of anything was supposed to develop feelings for their creation, it only ever ended badly._

 

 

 

 

**Day 27.**

Pete's next few days in Hell were mostly occupied by blatant, outright aggression towards that no-good Brendon across the street when he went to get the mail and fights with Joe on a regular basis.

Only two of the fights in question been physical, one where Pete tipped Joe over the edge about something stupid, probably his girlfriend, and Joe was stressed out enough to retaliate with something other than his words. Sometimes Pete just needed a good bonk on the head to remind him that he wasn't the only person with problems on this Earth.

And it worked, for a couple of days. Pete was okay for a couple of days.

The other fight was over wondering where Brendon's boyfriend had run off to. Comments about Ryan were made. It was immature, but it had the desired effect that had Pete over at the Way's for Advil once more. Pete stayed there doing nothing and saying nothing until Joe came to collect him, looking tired and somewhat angry. He had nothing to be angry about, Pete was the one who had to endure Mikey's snide, offhand remarks about him being a masochist while Gerard snickered over snickerdoodles. For hours.

Well fuck Gerard _and_ his snickerdoodles. _And_ his charming little brother.

Pete didn't even eat any of the cookies Gerard made him, even though they had yellow sugar icing and happy faces and looked, quite frankly, really really tasty. He spent a bit of time at the Way's that day and stared them down and listened to Gerard talk about space for a while. Gerard knew an awful lot about space. It was nice to have that sort of background noise to his brooding, Pete always thought. It turned sour all too quickly though. Pete left on the excuse of a stomachache when Frank showed up. He couldn't deal with another person trying to be civil with him. 

Occasionally, there were periodic interruptions of Mikey Way being too nice for his own good. Too cute for his own good too, he always showed up looking flawless in the morning and it only served to make Pete feel worse about himself, in a way. All too soon, the deep, dark circles were back under Pete's eyes from old, smudged eyeliner and lack of sleep. Once they'd taken up residence there, they refused to leave. 

He'd lash out at anyone who attempted to speak to him before about noon. Not that many tried to anyways, maybe about three people. Joe, Mikey, and Frank, on occasion, but he never really felt like talking to Frank. Frank was too happy all the time. And he smelled like dogs and hair product and that was a weird mix that made Pete's nose itch.

Plus Frank seemed incredibly fond of Mikey, which gave Pete all sorts of feelings that twisted in his stomach. He tried to ignore them, but Frank was so blatantly obvious when he and Mikey were in the same room that Pete wanted to hit something. Or maybe he wanted to punch Mikey for not doing anything about this. Or maybe Frank for getting in his way.

He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't middle school.

Though, sometimes it felt like it. Pete and Joe communicated through yelling and notes on the counter and blatant passive aggression, with Pete drawing angry eyebrows on every little smiley face Joe drew on the notes he made, arranging the cute little mountains of pills into intricate or vulgar designs and ignoring them completely.

Pete had also taken to keeping the living room a mess because he knew Joe would absolutely hate it. And hate it Joe did, and yell about it he did, and he took frequent day-long vacations to Andy's empty house "to water his plants"- anything to be out of here with Mr. Misery.

Pete wished he could have normal conversations with his friend like they'd used to. And sometimes he tried, but he found he had nothing to talk about and would start to sound like a broken-down record player.

There was a hole where something was, and Pete hadn't figured out how to get around it yet. He didn't care to find a way to get around it. That, and Joe just didn't know how to deal with him half of the time.

Andy had sometimes been better, but not by much. Joe could deal with this sort of thing in small doses really well, but he was being stretched thin and he lost his patience a lot more now. 

The vicious cycle continued.

Pete wasn't sure how _Mikey_ put up with someone so miserable, but he figured it was because he knew how. Not that he saw Mikey much after a while. He slept all day for about three days the second week, and even that was exhausting.

Sometimes it was peaceful enough that Joe could get a word in. He badgered Pete with questions about what he'd been up to, always making sure he didn't do anything _stupid_ , as he said. And he was always really relieved when the answer was no, sometimes he even gave Pete a hug, which would catch him off guard because of how distant Joe felt sometimes.

Pete hadn't made a mess of himself, not yet. Minutes became hours, hours became days, and Pete forgot that the world was passing as he lay on the couch for unreasonable amounts of time trying to sleep and utterly failing.

Global warming was happening.

Joe Trohman acquired a girlfriend in that time, that was happening.

Gerard kept on baking, cookies and frosted cupcakes, even that vegan shit that Frank loved so much.

The people across the street kept throwing wild parties all through the night. 

Life happened.

And Pete slept.

"You're scarce these days," Mikey remarked one day when Pete ambled outside to have their morning conversation. He told himself it was just because it was such a beautiful day, and it was, sun out, clouds sparse.

Everyone, it seemed, was outside and doing their yard work. Gerard was out in the garden- in pants today, which was a nice change. The two weird guys on the other side of the street were out just sitting under a tree with their bikes parked out in the driveway. 

Pete actually wanted to talk today. Or he'd convinced himself he wanted to. He wasn't sure what it was about Mikey that made him easy to talk to in a way Joe couldn't be, maybe it was just the way Mikey behaved. Maybe he was slightly more similar to Pete than either of them were willing to admit, something Pete was just beginning to understand and was unwilling to pursue.

Above all, Mikey was cute. That made him approachable, somehow. And he always seemed quietly cheerful and willing to talk in the mornings, especially when his brother was out with him. After a coffee, of course. He had one on him as he sat there. There was a pen in it. 

Pete didn't ask. 

"I'm always scarce," Pete replied, finding a smile somewhere. "I'm an endangered species."

"Rich assholes are not an endangered species," Mikey muttered, and Pete laughed at that a little bit.

"Nice neighbours certainly are."

"We have a lot of those, you just wouldn't agree." Mikey pointed out, and Pete would give him that. He hadn't seen many of the neighbours at all in his confinement, just Ray once when he stopped by the house in a panic asking for Joe's help with something or another. Joe had left before Pete could figure out what it was.

Frank stopped by once or twice because he meant well, he really did. He'd only come by the house once actually to say hi to Pete, but he practically lived over at the Way residence when he wasn't out in his own backyard with the dogs. Pete wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Pete had stopped going to the Way's after a while. He stopped remembering to care enough to go. Usually just got little updates from Mikey in the mornings. Today's report was vaguely mundane. Last week there had been an incredibly intimidating woman banging on William's door late in the evening demanding to see what he'd done. Gabe had tried to woo her into leaving, she broke a window and maybe also his nose.

But no, this week was boring.

It was Spencer's sick week, Mikey said, and Pete had to ask what that meant. Mikey didn't really know, just knew that Spencer hadn't left the house since Monday.

It happened sometimes, Mikey said, and it wasn't pretty. Ever. Brendon was grouchier than usual, if you talked to him. Luckily Pete didn't do that a lot. Brendon did all the chores and all the shopping and hardly complained about it at this time. Just another thing to prove just how whipped he was, Pete had to laugh a bit at that.

Dallon tended to visit a lot during those times as well, but Spencer never really appreciated it. Brendon really did though. And Ryan showed up at least four times, screaming and yelling outside the house until Brendon came out threatening to hit him with whatever object he had in his hand at the time and one of the neighbours would come intervene before a smackdown ensued.

Also Gerard made a cake yesterday if Pete wanted any, but Pete had almost tuned Mikey out at that point. He felt exhausted and just wanted to go back inside and do nothing.

"I'm not keeping you, am I? 'Cause like..." Pete caught himself staring at Brendon's white picket-fence across the street longingly and shook his head out, refocusing on a slightly concerned looking Mikey.

"Sorry I'm just." Pete waved his hand in a vague gesture that was only somewhat understandable. He had nowhere to go and nowhere he wanted to be, but anywhere would be better than stuck here. Like in a house with a white picket fence with someone who knew how actually deal with him. Or friends with Joe again. 

Mikey sighed like he was actually hoping to get anywhere today, like he hadn't the entire week. "Yeah, I know. We can go watch movies and you can ignore me if you want?"

"Maybe next time, thanks." Mikey knew when it was just not happening. And he was nice enough to respect that. He gave Pete an awkward pat on the shoulder and a reminder to take his meds before he went off again, over to Frank and Ray's house.

Pete adverted his eyes when Mikey walked down the driveway. 

 

 

 

**Day...? ?**

There wasn't really a next time.

Maybe Mikey was busy keeping Frank from doing something dumb or partying with the dumb people across the street without supervision. Really, those parties seemed to get pretty wild, and Pete had seen how much of a mother hen Mikey could be in his interactions with Frank.

Pete lost track of the days he'd spent indoors. He was never sure whether it was night or day half the time, he didn't really care. Joe spent an increasing amount of time trying to get him to do something. Eat, shower, go see a little sunshine... Something. Even going out to talk to Mikey for five minutes, apparently he was around and the knocking Pete heard every day wasn't the Jehovah's Witnesses from two streets over.

Joe wasn't sure how to deal with Pete though, he'd never been sure, he couldn't make Pete do anything. He'd call Andy in but Andy was not even in the country as it stood, he was in fucking Greenland or some shit. They'd forgotten why. It was a very Andy thing to do. 

But Joe was, above all else, a really good friend, and Joe kept trying and trying all the same. He knew it would pass at some point and Pete would be fine. All in good time.

After what seemed like a decade, Mikey came over every day to talk to Pete for a little while at least, so he had at least some human contact when Joe had to go out and keep the press under control in the absence of his two other band members. 

Joe had given Mikey a key and everything, the fucker.

And on **Day Something-or-Other** , Mikey came in to announce they were going out tomorrow, so he better be fuckin' ready, and Pete kind of nodded and rolled over to face the look up at the ceiling while Mikey sat there and told him all about Actual-Wonderboy Gabriel Saporta, who was back in town, and that when they got to William's house he needed to wear a lot of body spray because Spencer didn't do that once and he nearly died but that could have been because...

Pete probably fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

**Day? ? ??**

"Wakey wakey. Look alive, come on, we gotta go." Pete had totally forgotten about today. But he did feel a little bit better, like he could actually stomach more than thirty seconds of social interaction.

If he hung off Mikey the entire time he should be fine. Pete's cute neighbour literally dragged him out of his makeshift bed and into the kitchen, watched with hawk-like precision to make sure he was taking his meds that Joe left out maybe three days ago.

_Oops._

Mikey talked the entire time Pete was getting ready, standing outside the door and talking when Pete scoped out something at least somewhat clean to wear. Another purple hoodie and one of Joe's black band t-shirts. His head felt a little clearer by the time they get out the door, around the time that Mikey was warning him not to get too close to Gabe because first off you're one drink in and then the next you're waking up naked next to him covered in hickies. Not that he'd know. No way.

Pete was distracted though, he was thinking earlier that the jeans he was wearing were too tight. Then he saw Mikey's and everything changed. How did anything fit in there? _How?_

Actual-Wonderboy Gabe Saporta took an interest in Pete the second he walked through the door. Maybe he should have been flattered, but Pete was moderately alarmed to say the least. Gabe was six-foot infinity- dear god it was the land of giants in here, truly.

Gabe gripped Pete's hand as soon as he walked in, the official greeter even though this wasn't his house. According to Mikey, Gabe's roommate wasn't the most social of creatures. As in, nobody ever saw him. Nobody knew what he looked like, outside of Gabe's descriptions of him, which generally couldn't be rated below R. 

Pete didn't mind the over-exuberance of the greeting at all, weird as it was, but Gabe had a grip like an iron vice and Pete liked that hand in particular because he needed it to write so Gabe needed to lighten up just a little bit. "Who's this?"

"This is Pete-" Mikey made a face suddenly, jabbing Gabe in the chest, sending the taller man into a giggle fit that was entirely unsuited to one of his size and stature. "Don't Google him!"

"Too late. Wow tragic backstory and everything eh? It's okay, we don't judge." _What._ "There are easier ways to-"

"Oh look! There's Joe! Let's go see Joe!" Mikey yanked Pete away as Gabe became distracted with a rather pretty girl wearing an odd dress with fur around her shoulders. Pete judged her silently, both for actively seeking Gabe's company and wearing that while it was still warm out. Ridiculous. 

Pete managed to disentangle himself from Mikey, put off at the thought of seeing Joe at a party. At least he knew the option was there, that he had someone else to run to if Mikey found better company that Pete didn't want to be in. For right now though, Pete decided to let Joe be. He should have a nice night. He shouldn't be subjected to having to try and find Pete friends.

Pete decided that Mikey shouldn't have to do that either, so he shoved off on his own for a bit, promising to just come and find him if he needed anything or wanted to leave. It had been made quite clear that they could leave whenever Pete wanted to leave and that he wasn't being forced to stay here, he was just in sort of an awkward limbo of wanting to go but wanting to stay in case something interesting happened. He'd been told that lots of interesting things happened at Gabe's parties in William's ridiculously ornate house. 

Mikey was swept up by Brendon in seconds anyways for some sort of drinking game Pete wanted no part of. He was hoping it wouldn't become _that_ sort of party, but it probably would. 

He'd leave if anyone started taking their clothes off. 

Pete set himself on meandering around for a while. He'd just leave if things got too weird. Which they already kind of had. 

Frank and Gerard and Ray showed up sometime later, Gerard in a more reserved sort of black dress and black and white stockings with a black ribbon in his hair. Better than most of the outfits Pete had seen him in, sure. Better than the maid uniform.

Frank was hanging off of Gerard's arm, chattering like an excited little punk hobbit and wearing too much makeup himself. His gaze kept sweeping across the room- Pete just knew he was looking for Mikey, who Brendon had in a headlock over by the table covered with bottles and bottles of things,

Ray was bringing up the rear in that dumb cape and stick. Did he ever wear anything else?

Pete kind of shifted closer to the arm of the couch he was sitting on when someone else sat down. Not wanting to bug them, Pete shifted, bringing his feet up and rendering himself as small as possible. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea? Maybe he should leave. 

"Hey, hey." _Great._ Pete looked over as Gabe sat himself down on the lap of the guy sitting next to Pete- What was his name? Alex something. He didn't even live on this street. The couch dipped slightly under the weight and Pete heard it groan. How the hell could Gabe be so heavy, he was thin as a board! Wonders never ceased.

The guy started complaining about this arrangement, and they must've been kinda cozy at least because Gabe tilted his head to the side and gave the guy a totally casual kiss, shutting him up pretty quickly. 

Maybe that was a custom on this street. Pete made a note to try and stay out of this ritual. "You moved into the Barbie house right?" Gabe asked, returning to the conversation like nothing had happened. The guy was appeased for now. 

"Yeah, with uh. Joe." Pete nodded.

"Your band mate?" Pete nodded again, slower this time. Gabe snickered. The guy Gabe was sitting on rolled his eyes and looked utterly disinterested. "Wikipedia says you're dating," Gabe said after a moment. It took Pete a moment to realize Gabe was talking to him. 

"He neglected to inform me," Pete snapped.

"Well I'll change it back then." Awkward silence ensued. Pete was feeling a little better about himself, because everyone else seemed to be barking mad around here, and it took some of the pressure off of him. Maybe he and Mikey could form a club for the most normal people on the street, that would be nice. They'd be the only two. 

Pete wasn't entirely sure but he was somewhat convinced that Gabe was one of those weird superfans if he had spent time memorizing every detail of his Wikipedia page. Which was kind of creepy, but he'd seen worse. He'd experienced worse. Before Pete could make a legitimate attempt to engage a conversation, the guy Gabe was seated on shoved him off and got up, and then it was just the two of them. Gabe made a pouty face and reached out after him. "Suaaareeezzzz."

The guy smirked and blew him a kiss before wandering off, mumbling something about Victoria and beating up "that dumb vampire you like". So it really was just Pete and Gabe now. Shit. Gabe flopped back down with a sigh, shifting closer to Pete, much to the other's dismay. 

"You live with that weird guy, right?" Maybe that wasn't the best thing to start a conversation with, but it would have to do. Gabe just laughed a little at that and nodded.

"Bill, yeah. He's a riot." It was said with such affection. Were they dating or something? No. They were probably in Frank and Ray's situation. 

Pete made a face. "Not really."

Gabe just grinned like the devil. "Yeah, no. I'm supposed to sing his praises though, he's one of my best friends."

Pete had seen William _maybe_ once. Tonight. He was standing awkwardly in the back corner and avoiding everyone. He was also dressed too formally for this event, considering some people were hardly dressed at all (Brendon had removed his shirt at this point) and drinking wine of all things. From a fancy crystal glass. You know, the kind he should be hiding if he kept throwing wild parties in his house all the time. William just seemed kind of really pretentious, and not even in the way Pete liked.

Gabe and William seemed to be on opposite ends of the spectrum. Night and day. But both just as weird. Gabe was looking over his shoulder searching for him for a moment, but gave up, sliding back down in his seat. "I think he likes me better when I'm away."

"Dude never leaves the house," Pete grumbled. Gabe offered no other explanation to this, just leaned in closer.

"Neither do you." There were warning signs going up, Pete gave Gabe an incredulous look, having assumed everyone had just kind of filled in the blanks by now, especially someone who knew as much about Pete's Wikipedia page as he did. He wanted to back out now, quickly, but found himself wanting to argue more than he wanted to back down. "I'm always out of the house, I don't know how you can stand to be in there all the time. You sure you're not a vampire?"

"Not a vampire, just one of those ailing artist types," Pete said simply, and Gabe laughed.

"I know enough of those," he said. "I live with one."

"That must be great." William kind of did look like a vampire type, Pete supposed. He almost smirked. Almost.

"Not really. Ailing artist types usually aren't very good at having fun. They take themselves too seriously." Gabe paused, then leaned in until his face was nearly pressed up against Pete's neck and okay, the dude definitely had some personal space issues, fair enough, Pete had spent half his time pressed up against Andy or hanging off Joe when they were young and on tour and he was happy. "Maybe you're human after all. Didn't Mikeyway tell you to put on body spray or something?"

Pete vaguely remembered Mikey saying something about that at some point, but then Gabe was pulling Pete to his feet, dragging him through the crowd and down a hall. Pete took a moment to note the weird texture of Gabe's skin, it was tough and almost rubbery and cold. Weird, _weird, **weird.**  _He was assuming this was Gabe's room, by the state of it. There were boxes of tools and replacement screws and various other odds and ends everywhere. His bed wasn't made, his clothes were everywhere... It was a lot like home, really. 

The muffled sounds of the party were far behind them, and Pete hoped to god Mikey or someone he knew had seen Gabe abduct him, just in case something weird happened. Like making out. Or a Satanic ritual. Shit. He was doomed.

Gabe seemed pretty disinterested though, rambling on and on as he went through his dresser drawers. "Victoria's been working Bilvy to the bone these days! He forgets to eat when he's this busy- or he chooses not to. He says he works better like that but I say bull-fuckin'-shit. I haven't had a chance to force him to do it yet. Do you mind smelling like flowers? It's much better than smelling like human, trust me."

Um.

Pete raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Gabe produced a can of floral aerosol spray from the drawer, looking hopefully at Pete. That was not body spray. Pete was uncertain, quite suddenly. "It'll have to do," Gabe said, and Pete shrugged. How bad could it be? He closed his eyes and held his breath as Gabe doused him in fake flower smell, wondering briefly why he was encouraging this. "Now Bill won't dismantle me out of rage."

_What._

Gabe laughed at the concerned look on Pete's face. "Wow, you really are new here, aren't you?"

"How can you tell?"

"You're still pretty normal. Someone will convert you soon enough. Proper introduction." He held his hand out. "Gabriel Beckett-Saporta, part-time employee at Doctor Benzedrine's Society for the Magically Gifted and full time slacker."

Pete shook Gabe's hand, a bit bewildered by the title. "Pete Wentz." He wasn't sure if he was supposed to list his credentials. What _were_ his credentials? Oh well. The time had passed, Gabe was returning the spray can to its place in the drawer, and Pete was feeling a little better about the whole situation. Gabe was strange, but he was nice. Maybe they could be friends.

"Nice to meet you then." They stood in silence while Pete tried to summon his social skills from the shadow realm they were no doubt stuck in. Gabe was sizing him up, lost in whatever thoughts he was having. Pete wasn't nearly drunk enough to be having conversations, but if anything Mikey said was true being drunk with Gabe around would inevitably end in disaster.

_Mikey._

Mikey would be upset if he thought Pete had checked out early without telling him. Both Gabe and Pete turned their heads to look towards the sudden voices in the hall, and Gabe's mouth pressed into a line, his eyes narrowing a bit. Pete wandered a bit towards the door, but the voices were too muffled to make out. A man and a woman and varying degrees of urgency.

"Model 183," Gabe said simply, as if that offered some sort of explanation. He grabbed Pete's arm again, pulling him out of the room. "I am way too sober to be dealing with her right now, come on." Gabe lets go, disappearing into the crowd, but Pete's not alone for long, in a few minutes he is surrounded by Mikey Way, pulled into a big hug.

"Pete, where did you go."

"Gabe was-"

"You smell like flowers. You're lucky you didn't set William off, I. I told you, I told you, Pete." Mikey was pressing his face into Pete's neck, nuzzling him. "This stuff's really.... Not like anything we got back home. Can you believe it?"

"You smell like booze," Pete said uncertainly. This was a very not-Mikey thing to be doing. "I think we should go home." 

"No, no. Come on." Mikey pulled back, shaking his head, tugging on Pete's arm. "Come with me. We're gonna... We're gonna have a good time." 

Well, Pete couldn't say no to that. He knew he might regret it later, but he was willing to take that chance. 

 

 

 

 

**Day**

Pete woke up, and he was warm.

Joe always left the AC cranked up to a toasty ten below, so it was like an Arctic outpost in there all the time. This had a habit of waking Pete up -if he ever managed to get to sleep- when the blankets slipped just a little bit or if his feet started sticking out. His exposed flesh would start freezing and that would start him awake from any melancholy dream he'd been having. Every time. Without fail. 

But not now, he was warm. Almost too warm, and feeling kind of gross and sweat-sticky. It was nice, still. Better than freezing. Pete felt like he was buried under something. An odd sensation. Maybe Joe had thought it would be funny to stack things on him when he was asleep.

Andy and Joe did that once, and got one of Joe's weird friends to film it, back on their first tour when they were so, so excited and they were living in a van and Pete had fallen asleep in the back. The other two had decided to test how many things they could balance on Pete before he woke up. One of Andy's bags, a coffee tumbler, two bags of Cheetos and a stuffed bear- the very existence of which Joe had denied for half the tour.

But that was what Pete felt like at that moment, and he was confused and warm and comfortable, so he ended up nodding off again after a bit.

Pete started awake again with a bang. A literal bang. The sound of someone throwing the door open. 

" _Guys! I fucked up!_ " Pete scrambled to sit up, smacking his head against something in his rush. Someone responded with an indignant noise of pain-

Pete's jeans were gone. His jeans were gone, his shirt was gone, the lights were screaming angrily at him- oh god, that was most definitely Mikey _fuckin'_ Way who was all tangled up against his back.

Pete settled in and pretended to go back to sleep quick as he could, but he was hyper-aware now, there would be no more sleep. Possibly forever. It didn't matter in a couple of seconds anyways, because the yelling persisted. 

"Seriously, seriously! I fucked up!" 

Mikey nearly shoved Pete off the couch, grumbling as he sat up. Pete was off the couch in a flash, on a search for his clothes. Or just, some clothes in general, he didn't care. He wanted out.

There were none on the floor, and he realized that this wasn't Gabe's house, noting the lack of hungover people shuffling around and the cleanliness of the place. This was Mikey and Gerard's house. How the hell had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was being at Gabe's. Or William's. Whatever their situation was.

The yelling had calmed a bit, which was good, though Mikey was the only one doing anything to pacify Ray, though Pete spotted Gerard hanging around in the doorway. Ray was still being way too loud, it wasn't doing anything for Pete's headache. 

Pete was off the couch in a flash, standing there as he thought of maybe going to find his clothes- anything to get Gerard to stop staring at him like that. He was starting to get worried now, unsure of what there could be to stare at. He smoothed his hair down hurriedly and Gerard looked away quickly but the feeling of uneasiness remained. Pete would probably have to check himself out for marks that shouldn't be there when he got home. 

Mikey tossed a shirt at his face, grumbling as he left the room. The shirt was too big when Pete pulled it on, but he'd take it. It was mercifully devoid of any obscure nerd shit Gerard and Mikey seemed so drawn to.

Ray was still upset about Frank and the dogs, though Gerard had come over and was patting his back worriedly. 

When he yelled something suddenly about Frank _being_ the small, desperately happy weiner dog wiggling around in his arms, that was when Pete started paying attention.

Pete thought that maybe he should leave and let everyone deal with this, but Joe was probably already gone, with any chance he had of getting back in the house. Mikey was back down in a minute too, patting his neatly styled hair down. He looked flawless as ever, not like the hungover mess Pete felt. It was inhuman, Mikey's ability to look so good all the time. Magic, even. 

Gerard still had a hand on Ray's shoulder, though he looked even more worried now. He was speaking softly, trying to get Ray to calm down no matter how futile it seemed. Mikey joined in after a moment, gently taking the dog from his friend and trying his best to not start laughing when it immediately started licking his face.

Meanwhile, Pete was just standing there uselessly. He looked down at the dog who trotted over to him when Mikey had to put him down, walking around him in circles. The dog was happy, at least. If Frank was a dog he would definitely act like this. Pete smiled and picked him up, which sent Ray into a flurry of hand flapping and incoherent noises. The dog licked Pete's face once.

"Come here Pete," Gerard said, and he pulled Pete out of the room- out of the door. Pete wanted to protest but Gerard seemed rather insistent. Maybe it was because the dog was so pleased in his arms, tail beating against his stomach rhythmically. This wasn't so bad. No doubt he was locked out of the house anyways, if they were going to go to Ray and Frank's house he might as well stick around and hang out with some cool dogs. He could ignore any of the drama that was going on. But in a moment, Mikey was frantically beckoning Gerard back into the house, leaving Pete standing in the middle of the street with a wriggling dog in his arms.

Huh.

"What do you wanna do," Pete asked the dog, who licked his face again. "You're not really Frank are you? Because you should stop licking me if you are." He set the dog down, and it started winding through his legs, seeming to want him to trip him up. Figures. Even the cute dog wanted to see him fail.

Pete looked back at the Way's house before he continued walking, the dog- Frank, he decided he'd call him, to humor the shenanigans that were happening- trotted along at his heels obediently.

Pete had no idea what to do now. What did you do with a dog outdoors? What if the dog ran away? Mikey and Gerard would kill him. 

He just went for a stroll. He decided not to go too far though, just in case the dog had a sudden change of heart and decided to bolt.

Usually you could tell what day it was from how many people were out in their yards, but it seemed like everyone was out there today, except for the people who never left their houses. 

That Tyler figure was out on his lawn in one of those white plastic chairs, just sitting there, face obscured by circle shades. Gabe was standing out on the lawn talking to someone who had probably spent the night, the tall neighbour Pete had never learned the name of. He wasn't sure Mikey knew either. Apparently the guy was around less than William. They both looked over and grinned when Pete walked by, though he couldn't see the other guy's eyes under the heavy hood he had up.

Weird.

Brendon was out too, but Pete didn't even look his way. The dog ran up to him, though. He had to stand there awkwardly as Brendon stooped low to pet the dog before he came bounding back, tongue lolling out. Pete grumbled at him. Nothing in particular, he just wanted the dog to know where he stood.

The two of them stood on Ray's lawn for a bit. Nothing much happened. Joe came home, looking exhausted and in no mood to talk, so Pete didn't say anything. Joe deserved a break, and Pete felt fine. 

The Ways and Ray came parading out of the house and walked right past Pete without acknowledging him and Frank the dog. Pete sat on the curb. The dog sat next to him, wagging his tail.

“Does this happen a lot?” Pete asked him. The dog did not respond.

They sat.

Brendon left his house, off to go somewhere. Inside the house, Frank’s dogs barked and barked at them, but Pete didn’t even really mind. It was a nice day. Pete started thinking about how nice it was outside today, how he should call his family and talk to Joe- like, have a conversation with him. A civil one. How nice would that be? Maybe he could go out and do something with Mikey, even.

Like a date, but not a date. Of course not.

“This street is getting to me,” Pete told the dog, who just leaned his head on Pete’s leg and looked up at him. His eyes were kind of unsettling, they did look just like Frank’s, but… in dog form, and that was off putting for obvious reasons.

Pete just patted him on the head, and they waited. The Way parade stormed past them again and Pete and Frank followed them with their eyes. They remained unnoticed. 

After a little bit, Frank the dog high tailed it to his own front door. Sure, why couldn’t he go chill with the other dogs? They seemed really sweet. Pete had grown pretty fond of them. Sometimes he'd go stand by the fence in the back the the dogs would come running up, pressing wet noses to the cracks in the wood. He was sure he'd be fine if he took Frank the Dog into his own house. 

It probably wasn’t super polite to walk right into Ray’s house like Mikey had the first time they had met formally, because Pete hardly knew these people. But he figured it would be okay just this once, because Frank the Dog seemed super excited. It couldn’t be that bad in there, right?

The hallway was as far as he’d go, he told himself as he walked in, but the dogs had other ideas. As soon as Frank joined the group they all went barreling into another room, and Pete went scrambling after them.

They stopped briefly in the living room, a weird, weird place full of huge wooden cabinets with shelves covered in books. Old looking books. Either Ray and Frank were avid fans of Harry Potter or they were stranger than Pete originally thought.

The dogs kept running, bursting into another room that Pete was hesitant to go in, but there was no way he was standing in the hall with all these creepy paintings of people staring at him. No matter where he stepped their eyes seemed to follow. He was not okay with that. 

The door slammed shut behind him without prompting, which got all the dogs barking. It was kind of a horrible situation, because this room was freaking Pete out.

There was a lot of glass, full of various coloured liquids and plants and smoke that seemed to come from nowhere at all- it was like the laboratory of a mad scientist in a cartoon and Pete was not so happy about it. Sure he liked cartoons, but this was a bit too wild for him. But at the same time, he really was curious.

“Is this a meth lab or what, Frank? Be honest with me.” Pete went around to the other side of the bench, examining the colourful liquid in the glass beakers. Frank gave an indignant ‘hmph’ and laid himself down on the floor, leaning his snout on his paws.

Pete tapped against one of the glass tubes and it sparked, making him jump. He nearly knocked over a particularly menacing looking vial of tar black liquid. It had a label on it with nothing but a lot of red exclamation point. 

…Huh. Pete left that alone, perusing the small bookshelf on the other side of the room. He picked one out and set it on the work table, just in case he’d be stuck in here too long. The dogs were arranging themselves on the floor, tired out by the ten seconds of earlier excitement. Pete was sort of feeling that.

“I won’t tell the police that you’ve got a meth lab in your cellar,” Pete assured Frank the Dog, who started winding between his legs again out of protest. “Really! You didn’t strike me as the type!”

He scanned the row of bins, all stacked up on top of each other, each one labelled with some weird name in some language that Pete didn’t know. He’d have to tell Joe about this later. Pete pawed through some of the bins, mostly because manners had escaped him in his boredom. Ray wouldn't find out if Frank the Dog didn't rat him out anyways. 

Most of the dried plants in there smelled weird, some of them made him sneeze and some made his head feel fuzzy. Really, he’d have to ask Ray about this stuff if he was ever freed. One of the bigger dogs got startled when he sneezed a little too loudly, and she was up on her feet, trotting around the room.

Pete thought nothing of it until her tail hit the glass bottles at the edge of the worktable and everything went tumbling to the floor. Chaos erupted. He overturned the bin of weird dried berries and the scattered over the floor- which was slowly being dissolved by the liquid that had been knocked over, glowing ominously. Pete ushered all the dogs towards the book shelf as they whined and whimpered, standing between them and the chemical spill which- well it didn’t really do much other than open a fucking void in the floor.

Pete was almost certain he’d been breathing in the weird fumes in here too long, he didn’t think too much of it until it started sparking and swirling with purple and white light.

The dogs calmed down after a while. The room was relatively unchanged, except for that… Whatever it was, set in the floor. Pete managed to calm everyone down after a bit, sitting down on the floor and resolving not to touch anything else. It felt like hours, in the time that they were in there. Pete sat on the cold stone floor coughing up dust and reading to the dogs about the merits of using Mandrake roots.

It was a bit boring but ir was almost….peaceful. It was a good time being locked in this weird freaky cellar surrounded by happy, sleepy dogs. Maybe Pete would get a dog. Joe would love having a dog around, his dog was back home with his girlfriend currently, and Joe didn’t get to see either of them a lot.

Pete felt bad about that sometimes. He and the dogs were all almost asleep by the time someone finally came to rescue them. All of the dogs were up and alert immediately, and Pete practically threw the book. It landed in the radioactive patch, disappearing into the floor.

Oops.

Mikey had soot smudged over his fingers and across his face, it was almost comical and very endearing. His expression relaxed as soon as he saw them.

“Did you fix it?” Pete asked him, because he still wasn’t totally sure what was going on, and Mikey looked kind of out of it.

Frank the Dog hopped off of Pete’s lap and trotted over to Mikey immediately, tail going a mile a minute. Mikey gave everyone a sort of tired smile. “I think so. It should work for right now, at least. We’ll work out the kinks later.”

“Sounds good,” Pete said, getting to his feet and stretching. Mikey looked like he was going to say something for a moment, but decided against it last second, stepping down off the porch with the dog at his heels.

Pete decided it might be best to go with him, even if he’d lost the dog’s favour. Honestly. After all they’d been through.

Pete and Mikey led the Dog Parade out of the room. Ray and Gerard were in the living room, Ray holding a metal dog bowl in his hands, which he set down gently when he saw Frank the Dog. Pete stood in the doorway, keeping the other dogs back, and Mikey crossed the room to stand with Ray.

He whispered something, and Ray gave Pete a dirty look- probably for the void in his basement. Pete would have to apologize later. He’s never had to apologize for opening a portal in someone’s basement before. Frank the dog is lapping away at the… whatever Ray put in there. 

“How long does this usually take,” Gerard asked after a long, awkward silence.

“I-… I really don’t know,” Ray admitted, looking sheepish. “It’s a new spell.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Mikey said, patting Ray on the shoulder.

They waited.

“Are you sure you got it right?” Pete asked, even though he had no idea what was supposed to go right. He couldn’t politely leave at this point and the tone of the room was wearing on him. Everyone was staring at the dog so intently, really, he’d hate to be Frank right now.

“I don’t know!” Ray threw his hands up.

“Should we try again? We have time, I don’t think he minds it so much…” Gerard was waving his hands pleadingly. “Guys-”

“What if he gets out!” Ray was having none of this. Pete seemed to be the only one who noticed right away when the dog fell backwards into the form of Person Frank, cracking his head against the floor with a stream of expletives.

He had absolutely no clothes on whatsoever.

Pete looked away in a flash but he couldn’t quite… get that image out of his head. It was stuck there. It was stuck there forever now, probably. He'd be seeing it in his nightmares.

A horrified silence came over the room.

Ray was cheering on his way to fetch Frank clothing and Gerard adverted his eyes politely but… Mikey seemed frozen, he’d gone a rather brilliant shade of red. He started sputtering excuses when Gerard elbowed him in the side, looking away.

“Ow,” was all that Frank said, before Mikey tossed a blanket over him. He laughed as he wrapped it around himself, sitting up. “You will not BELIEVE the day I had, guys! Also Pete opened that Otherworld portal in the basement but it’s okay it wasn’t really his fault. It was kind of my fault. I wanted to see how everything would smell down there as a dog, you know? Hey I totally understand what everyone is thinking now too… It was pretty intense.” He continued babbling as Mikey knelt down, pawing at him and examining him for any sort of abnormality or minor injury, and Pete suddenly felt like he shouldn’t be there.

He pet some of the dogs on his way out, his brain latching on to the fact that nobody seemed to notice that he’d left.

Back to square one, again.

He could deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Muffled rap music in the distance] Guess who's back (back back)


End file.
